


In That Sleep of Death

by penguinspy42



Series: Dreams of Death [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinspy42/pseuds/penguinspy42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words flowed from his heart as if they suddenly broke free from the prison in which they were held. It was a fountain of poetry filled with whispers of love and devotion but poisoned by the broken promise of a future that would never be. Once again, he was the last of his kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In That Sleep of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hamlet and inspired by very vivid dreams.

Disliking pictures of oneself is common among many races throughout the universe. Some would say it's vanity but the truth is we're so much more accustomed to seeing a mirror image of ourselves that when we see how we truly are in a photo, something just seems off. Subtle differences in our asymmetrical appearance forces us to view the person in the photograph as ever so slightly different than the one we're used to seeing in the mirror.

So it was with River as she stood by the blue-grey coffin staring at her lifeless body within. The impossibly curly hair, the eyes gently shut as if sleeping, the round cheeks; all familiar but somehow different from her reflection. She supposed this was what happened when one died; a brief moment to come to terms with the fact that one's physical body no longer restrained their soul. She thought she'd be more upset than she was but it didn't seem to really bother her. Truthfully, she was more fussed over the green dress that served as her burial shroud than the fact she was dead. Still, it felt somehow familiar, standing there looking at her corpse. But how could it be? One only dies once. Well, usually. There are exceptions to every rule.

That was when he came. She never actually saw him, only motion out of the corner of her eye and she found herself unable to turn, her gaze locked on her own corpse. But then he stopped right on the spot to which she seemed to be rooted and she could feel him all through her soul. The Doctor had come to say goodbye.

Familiar pangs of grief and anguish and loss mingled with the startlingly unfamiliar trappings of life. She had already become accustomed to the stillness of a spirit without a body that the blood rushing through his veins, the air filling his lungs and even the almost imperceptibly light current of air across his skin were nearly a sensory overload.

The Doctor stood silently, his gaze following the same path as hers. River was struck by the fact that he was just as enigmatic from within as he was on the outside. She'd always suspected he hid things even from himself, but it wasn't until she had the benefit of this perspective that it became clear just how much.

"You always liked that dress." The words were quiet and she knew they were as far removed as possible from what he really wanted to say.

" _Not really_ ," she thought.

"Or maybe you just knew I liked it."

He said no more after that, but the words flowed from his heart as if they suddenly broke free from the prison in which they were held. It was a fountain of poetry filled with whispers of love and devotion but poisoned by the broken promise of a future that would never be. Once again, he was the last of his kind.

Unless time flowed differently once one had shed their body, he stayed far longer than she expected he would. The significance of this was not lost on her. He hated endings and went to great lengths to avoid them. Or at least not prolong them any more than necessary. But at the same time, it was the lengthy time he spent more than anything that made her question the reality of the situation.

Slowly raising his hand, he reached out to touch her cheek but stopped before his fingers met her skin. He couldn't do it. It was already too real for him, she could tell. But touching her flesh, feeling all the energy drained from the woman he loved would be too painful.

With a sigh, he turned and and suddenly her senses were dulled again. She wanted to accompany him but she still was frozen next to the box that contained her empty corpse. Well, mostly frozen. She discovered she could move her arm. Or what was a phantom arm of her disembodied spirit, she supposed. She reached out, pressing past the point that proved too much for the Doctor, and touched the the cheek of the body she once inhabited. The instant her spirit met the skin, a frozen beast reared up and devoured every last bit of her essence. Though she no longer had breath, she was instantly winded and burned by the extreme cold. The world seemed to close in on her until her reality was no more than a tiny cube, a die that increased her pain exponentially with every roll. It was dense and painful and a worse prison than even Stormcage. But through the cries she barely recognized as her own, another familiar voice echoed through.

"River! River!"

She bolted upright in bed, the same crushing weight lingering over her entire body. She took gulping breaths, desperate to cleanse the chill from her lungs. She didn't even realize she was crying until she touched her cheek, desperate for more proof she was alive, and felt the tears flowing down it.

"You had that dream again, didn't you?"

River turned to see the Doctor in bed next to her, propped on his elbow and watching her with great concern and she nodded.

"I'm sorry, River," he said with a strained voice as he looked away. "I'm so sorry that I--that I--made you wear that dress you hate."

The tension instantly drained from her body and she laughed, causing the Doctor to crack a grin in return. She fell back into his open arms and curled into him, drinking up his warmth and reveling in the sensations that the living take for granted.

"You're impossible, you know that?" she asked.

"You wouldn't have me any other way," he murmured into her curls, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as punctuation.

She smiled her response into his chest as she cuddled closer to him. As their breathing synchronized, it became the link that bound them together and to life. Even though she knew that because of her sacrifice, her dream would eventually be reality, she would do it all over again to preserve this time with him.


End file.
